Astoria's Moving Thingamajig
by ohlookamockingjay
Summary: Draco shook his head. "Potter and Weasley... Who's next? Granger? They don't have a clue!" He gestured to the newspaper in hand. After the war, Draco became a healer and works in a small clinic in Dublin. There's a new mystery, and all the answers seem to be with a witch with extraordinary powers and an extraordinary house. Story open for adoption.


**Hey everyone, so I've been pretty inactive and I probably won't be (too) active again anytime soon, not with writing at least. I wrote this Howl's Moving Castle inspired-fic almost 3 years ago and I intended for it to be multi-chapter but well that didn't go anywhere HAHAHA. This is all I've got and I thought it'd be a waste not to publish it so here you go. If anyone wants to adopt it just pm me, I'm totally for it. We can talk about it maybe? Anyway cheers and I'm not Irish at all and don't know a lot oops. (cough names)**

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 **I don't own Harry Potter.**

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THE DAILY PROPHET - 16 February 2001

THE BOY-WHO-VANISHED

 _London - Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, the one to defeat the Dark Lord, has gone missing. He was last seen in public at Diagon Alley shopping along with his girlfriend, Ginny Weasley. After that, he was last seen when Ginny said goodbye to Harry at night that day. Ginny refused to comment further. Since the Second Wizarding War, all has been well until this disappearance. Authorities have not reported any signs of the reemergence of Death Eaters recently and analysts say that there is no reason for Harry Potter to go missing, and in the very least, unable to escape given his capabilities. It is indeed a mystery._

* * *

THE DAILY PROPHET - 17 MARCH 2001

SEARCH FOR POTTER CONTINUES

 _London - The search for Harry Potter, the famous Boy-Who-Lived is still ongoing. Ron Weasley, head of the tactical defence sector, close companion of Mr Potter, and leading the search party for Potter, has returned from yet another mission unsuccessful. Mr Weasley refused to comment on whether any progress had been made during the search trip to Dublin._

 _Harry Potter has accomplished what many call the impossible: defeating the dark Lord Voldemort after a reign of terror during the 2nd Wizarding War. But now, he goes missing with barely a trace. Has Potter passed his prime?_

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THE DAILY PROPHET - 28 MARCH 2001

WEASLEY MISSING

 _London - Not a slight more than a month after the disappearance of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, his companion and colleague Ron Weasley too, goes missing. Mr Weasley was in charge of a search party to find Harry Potter, head of the aurors, and disappeared from the rest of his team on a mission in Wales. His second-in-command, Zacharias Smith, said to reporters at the Ministry of Magic that Weasley had gone to investigate deeper into the forest, upon sighting something described as "suspicious". His team offered back-up, but Weasley insisted he go himself. "He stepped into the darkness and we waited minutes, but he never returned." Smith said. Smith declined to comment on the matter further. Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, the girlfriends of the two missing aurors, declined to comment._

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"Unbelievable. How does one go missing just like that? Just, poof?"

"Poof? Seriously? Poof?"

"What?"

"You just said the word 'poof'."

"So?"

"Never mind."

Draco shook his head. "Potter and Weasley... Who's next? Granger? They don't have a clue!" He gestured to the newspaper in hand. The clinic wasn't very busy that day, leaving gaps of time for Draco to chat in-between appointments. Maisie was at the other end of the counter levitating her quill whilst talking to Phyllis. Walt was busy treating a patient.

"Uh, huh." Clark said as he sorted pills at the counter. Clark Westings was a tall fellow with brown curls atop his head and an aquiline nose. Though it wasn't a requirement, he liked to wear a white robe that made him look like the healers at the ministry hospitals.

"Why would anyone, anything, want the Golden Trio? Or, two-thirds of them, at least." Draco pondered, rolling around in his chair in the office.

"Because... I don't know, they're golden?"

Draco stopped at the door frame that separated his office from behind the payments counter. "Oh my god, Clark, really?"

"Why are you so interested in this anyway? It's not like you were very cushy with them last time..." Clark commented as he stored some vials of potion in the cabinets.

Draco hesitated, then shook his head. "I don't know, to be honest. I guess it's just remarkable that of all people... Potter! He's the most capable! And he goes missing." He paused, "It's quite funny actually, the other way of looking at it. It just has to be him, it's always him landing in-"

Just then, the bells on the door handle chimed, signalling an arrival and Draco rolled back into the office, shutting the door behind him and leaving Clark to do the initial greetings. He turned back to his table and picked up his next patient's file to quickly scan it.

 _-PATIENT FILE-_

 _Name: Andrea Redmond_

 _Age: 76_

 _Medical history: Prone to nosebleeds._

 _-END-_

Knock knock.

"Come in!" Draco answered.

The door opened and an elderly lady hobbled in. She donned a hat with flowers and wore a matching jacket and skirt. Traditional old folk attire, really.

"Hello, Mrs Redmond, how have you been?" Draco greeted as she took a seat in the chair opposite from his desk.

"Good, good." The woman nodded. "And yourself, Healer Malfoy?"

"Fantastic." Draco replied.

On to business.

"So what's the problem this time?"

"I'm getting headaches, plenty. When I watch the television or reading the newspaper, or cooking. They keep coming, in flashes!"

"Hmm... Okay, flashes? Draco said as the quill beside him took notes on its own.

"Yes," Mrs Redmond said, nodding vigorously. "They come and go rather quickly. Like bursts, here and there. And they're hot. It feels like fire. Like fireworks, you could say. But they're not pretty. Is it my old age?"

"Alright... No, it has nothing to do with age."

"How long as it lasted?"

"Only recently, a week or two ago."

"Okay, Mrs Redmond, the symptoms you have described suggest a case of Salamander Sorehead. It's a headache brought on by the combustion of salamander skin." Draco said as he referred to the parchment on his desk with the notes taken. "Have you encountered any… salamanders or been burning salamander skin for potions perhaps?"

"No, but oh! My neighbour is a potion maker. She has all sorts of ingredients in her house. Must be her brewing something up. It's not poisonous, is it?"

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "No, no, no, otherwise it'd be a banned ingredient. Generally Salamander Sorehead is more likely to affect those with sensitive sinuses, such as you. If not, most people don't find the fumes harmful in any way. So, I'm going to prescribe you with some painkillers to help the headache, and perhaps you or your neighbour could cast an anti-diffusion charm to prevent this from happening again?"

"That sounds reasonable. Actually, my neighbour is Deidre MacFadden. Do you know who she is?"

Draco shook his head, "No, can't say I do."

"She is a very gifted brewer. Popular in the wizarding community here in Dublin. She does customised potions and does direct orders. She makes me cleaning potions and fertilisers for my plants. They are splendid!"

"I see..."

"Might as well recommend her. She prefers to work solo, but I did tell her once that she would contribute significantly to the clinic here. Oh! Let me give you her address, you might get along, what with your interest in potions. You may even be compatible, I don't think she is seeing anyone, but she keeps her life rather private-"

"Thank you but it's alright, Mrs Redmond. I'm good."

"Oh, haha! Forgive me for digressing. But here, let me give you her address. It may come in useful."

Later on, after getting her medication, Draco walked Andrea Redmond to the door of the clinic.

"Stay healthy, Draco!" Mrs Redmond planted a kiss on both cheeks. She turned and walked down the street and out of sight.

"Pretty sure that's not professional." Clark mused after the old woman left.

"She's a very affectionate woman." Draco replied, wiping both sides of his face with the sleeve of his shirt. "Have you heard of Deidre MacFadden?" he asked after a moment.

"Oh, potions woman, right?"

"How do you know about her?"

"Mum got her to help with the paint job for our house. Suggest the paints. Oh! And just recently, my brother came back drunk from a party. Mum asked her for a hangover potion. Ah that was funny. Teenagers..."

"Why does everyone know about this potions chick but me?"

"Well, to be fair, you did just come in a couple months ago."

"Eight months is not 'a couple'."

"Why so curious about this person?"

Draco shrugged. "Mrs Redmond talked about her. It's this MacFadden person's experiments that probably caused her Salamander Sorehead."

"Sorehead... Ouch. And, wow. Hey, want to go out for drinks later? I'll ask the others."

"Sure, I've got nothing on."

"Awesome."

Draco went back to his office. He sat down at his desk.

23 Mayfair Lane

The slip of paper sat on the table. Draco stuffed it into his pocket and then resumed his work. Picking up the next file of the day, he skimmed through it. 5-year-old Frank Simmons was to come in in ten minutes.

* * *

The Brazen Head pub was alive that night. Pop music blared through the speakers and many took to dancing. Except for Draco, Clark, Maisie and Walt, who sat in the lounge area with drinks in hand and a bottle of muggle whiskey at the centre of the table. Phyllis wasn't there as she had a date. As the night went on, Draco noticed a couple of women eyeing him. It always happened when at such social gatherings. He was considered good-looking by normal standards, some girls even tried asking him out. But oh, if it were the wizarding world, people would more likely look at him with surprise or fear, less likely to check him out. He wasn't sure which title he preferred, eye-candy or former death eater?

Eye-candy had less emotional attachment to it. Probably that.

Thank goodness he found some redemption and acceptance in the smaller magical community of Ireland.

Draco drank sensibly. He didn't dare drink to the point of making a fool of himself as some people did. For instance, Walt and Clark. His coworkers were drunk. Totally drunk. Drunk enough to not make much sense, at least.

"Medicine, medicine, hahahaha maybe I need some," Clark giggled.

"Do you wanna give it to me for free? Just take it all away from them." Walt snickered.

"Some antibiotics to kill the alcohol HA." Clark slapped the arm beside him, which happened to be Maisie's.

Maisie had recently turned twenty nine. She had her long brown hair bunned up and held together with chopsticks, with some stray hairs circling her round freckled face.

"You shit." Maisie said through gritted teeth.

Then, a girl strut by in a crop top. Walt took a gulp of beer and then called after her, "Hey, sexy! You and me? Have a quickie?"

Draco and Maisie stared at their colleagues, then Maisie turned to Draco.

So, how's your day been?" She asked.

"It's alright, one of my patients kicked me in the face." Draco replied, chuckling.

"Frank?"

"Yep."

Clark moved to get up but Draco pulled him back down.

"No more drinks, mate." He pointed to his half-drunk cup in front of him, "You're not even done with your current one!"

Clark downed his cup and then grabbed Maisies and gulped down its contents too.

"Hey!" Maisie protested, "Taking people's property without permission!"

Clark chucked, and held up the cup with what drink was left, "May I?"

Maisie grumbled, "Might as well."

Suddenly, Walt hit the table surface, "You know, I've always wondered, of all the magicky stuff in the world, why did I become a healer? I could have been a king or a dragon or a curse breaker...bibbidi bobbidi boo!"

"Bibbidi bobbidi boo?" Clark questioned.

"Cinderella, mate, Cindy-ella!" Walt chuckled and took another swig. Walt knew of Cinderella because he grew up with those fairy tales. He was muggleborn.

"You mugglies… Mugglies...that's funny. Walt, you're a mugglie!" Clark exclaimed.

Draco looked down at the table and the cup in his hands. "A mugglie?" he muttered.

* * *

It came to the point where Clark had to run to the toilet to retch. Maisie had commented after he'd run to the toilet that vomiting might be a good way to get rid of all that alcohol.

Draco looked at Maisie and Walt, "Time to go?"

"But it's not morning yet…" Walt slurred.

Maisie looked at her watch, "12.23am, kinda is."

Walt groaned, then dropped his head to the tabletop. "Hammered, quite hammered."

Draco took another sip from his cup. If anything, his friends were going to have a massive hangover tomorrow. At least the clinic wasn't open tomorrow.

"Draco…"

"What?"

"I can't feel my arms."

"I'm sorry?"

"Everything f-feels limp. I'm s-s-what was going to say-oh uh, I'm kinda sleepy."

"Are you okay?"

"No, I want to go home."

Suddenly a bartender came to the table.

"Excuse me?"

"Uh, yes?" Draco responded.

"Your friend has passed out in the toilet."

"What?" Draco said, eyes widening. He got up from his seat, to go but first turned back to his friends, in various states of unwell and wasted. "I'll be back…"

He followed the bartender, pushing his way through the crowd of people. There in the men's room, the door to a cubicle appeared to have been removed, and Clark lay their stomach down, drool trickling out his mouth. Draco walked up to him and bent down. He touched his shoulder lightly.

"Clark? Mate, you okay?" Draco asked, but there was no response. He took his hand and checked for a pulse, which was still present.

"Should we call an ambulance?" Someone piped up.

Draco looked down at his friend, then around him where a crowd had gathered. He sighed. There was a spell for reviving people who were unconscious but it couldn't be done here. This was the muggle world. Any magic done had to be done out of sight.

"Excuse me, trained doctor coming through!" A voice called out. Heads turned and the group of onlookers parted slightly for a young woman to pass through.

The bartender looked up. He sighed, "Deidre, what luck."

Deidre.

"You're lucky I was at the corner shop picking up lemons." She muttered as she crouched down to examine Clark. She checked for his pulse.

"I'll bring him to the store if you don't mind, are any of his friends here?"

Draco hurriedly stepped forward, "Yeah, me."

She looked up, "Great, can you-" but stopped. She stared at him, and for a moment she faltered.

Draco looked at the ground. Did she recognise him from the war?

She composed herself, "Can you help me carry him to the car? All the equipment I've got is back at my shop."

* * *

With the bartender's help, they lugged Walt to the lady's car. Draco sighed.

A wasted friend, a friend that could barely walk (in her current state), and an unconscious one.

Quite the night.

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 **Ok the end if you're interested in continuing it leave a review or PM me? Otherwise that's it haha**


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